Scheherazade

The first time he hits you, you’re both shocked.

It gets easier the second time, for him anyways.

After the third and fourth hit, there is a rhythm to how he’s hitting you.  After the eighth and ninth hit you know it’s not going to stop.

You’re on the ground. You wonder how you got there. He’s dragging you with your right arm, you feel your shoes slip off and the gravel rip your stockings.

“I don’t want to die.” This isn’t something you say, this is something you think.

You feel something wet on your face, it isn’t raining. It’s your own blood.

You can’t see anymore. You’re focusing on breathing.

Why can’t you just get up. You don’t hear anything, he isn’t yelling anymore.

You try to get up and he pushes you back down. It’s harder to breath and you can’t see anything. “Get up”, these are words in your mind.

My wrist is sweaty and his hand is sweaty, he loses his grip. And I jump up. I don’t make eye contact. I turn around, He grabs my dress and hair, I move anyways. He hits the back of my head, I’m on the ground again.

There is a bright light, maybe lights of a car. He pauses, I get up, I run.

I run and then I hide, belly down between bushes in a yard of a house I’ve never been to. The dirt feels cool against my skin.

Just breathe. 

I wonder what time it is. Someone comes out of the house. I don’t think they see me in the bushes they go back inside. A few minutes later a police car comes. He asks if I’ve been drinking. I try to say no, my jaw doesn’t move. I can’t make out his face. One of the cops helps me out of the bushes. They ask me more questions, when they see I can’t answer they put me in the back of the cop car. We arrive at the hospital. He asks me if I’ve been drinking I shake my head no. He asks if I am on any drugs, street or prescription, I shake my head no.

He asks if I was raped. I vomit.

Three broken fingers,

A broken jaw.

Fractured ribs.

Broken clavical.

Concussion.

Various bruises and scratches.

This is what they tell me, this is what I already know. 

When I was ten I was in a school play. I was Scheherazade. I was in a lot of scenes and I even had a monologue. After the play was over they let us keep our costumes. A lime green tank top with a multi-colored skirt, pieces of soft organza, tied together along my waist. I had gold shoes with hot pink trim. I felt special and confident. I didn't forget any of my lines. I practiced my lines with Ernie, he was small and stuttered. He wanted to be in the play, but because he stuttered when he was nervous he didn't try out. On opening night he gave me a pink carnation. When my mother asked who gave me the flower I told her everyone got one for doing a great job. 

When I got home, I pressed the flower in a book and wondered if I could wear my costume when Ernie and I got married.